Tara laughs, unsure, and Sookie tells her it would be awesome. After all, they always got along in the days of Lettie Mae, she stayed over more than she didn't, and they never really fought. Tara admits that she was in fact jealous of Sookie's hair -- that in other words she had a "problem with hair," with beauty, with Sookie's long blonde idealized locks -- and dreamed of cutting it while Sookie slept. (Jealousy was never really Tara's demon, though. You need to have something before you can want something more.) "I've been trying to get my act together to move into Gran's room for the past couple weeks, and your moving in might be the kick in the butt I need to do it." Tara doesn't know what to say, but just then they're surprised -- saved by the bell? -- by a terrific smashing outside the stockroom: Daphne, dropping a whole tray of full plates. Sam, the more frustrated he is the more adorable he gets -- "Oh, Daphne! That's right on my feet, how am I supposed to ignore that?" -- but I mean, terrible day. God making fun of you at table four, award-winner PTSD victim cooking things and slowly melting down, bartender and best waitress having secrets in the stockroom, and now the new girl's actually throwing food at you. How are you supposed to ignore all that? Focus on one thing at a time.
Maryann stops Sookie at the door in her flighty upper-class mode, making a sound like wooba! "Is this the infamous Sookie? You're very special, you know. I mean, to have been through everything you have in your life -- not to mention the last few weeks -- and to emerge through all of it walking, let alone smiling, it's... Well, it's simply astonishing." As Sookie narrows her eyes, trying to listen, to focus, Maryann pulls Tara into it ("I see what you mean about her, Tara") with her Universal Mother tone. Putting herself in Adele's place, at the center of that photograph: me and Tara, we know you're special. Can't you admit you're special too? But all Sookie can hear in there as Maryann smiles tighter and tighter is the unending cascading undulating coruscating unending chant of ritual, and one name invoked over and over, again and again: Bacchus, Bacchus, Bacchus.
"She has an old soul, doesn't she?" Maryann continues, and Sookie -- as usual -- couldn't be less interested in what's going on outside her head. "I'm usually good at placing people's accents, but yours, I can't get a handle on. Where are you from?" Maryann grins, turns it into a joke, names the richest place they know, resting her bounty on their heads like a goddesses' hand, like a pair of warm breasts: "Cape Cod. Best potato chips in the world!" They all laugh, for some reason, and Sookie scoots away, with an archly territorial request for Maryann's benefit, to think about the offer. "Oh," Maryann says, hiding her hurt: "She asked you to move in with her?" Tara laughs, embarrassed. "That was awfully nice!" she says expansively, and Tara shrinks before her. Maryann smiles, and doesn't speak, as Tara assures her she hasn't really considered it one way or the other yet: she doesn't know "what she's doing," in the grand sense. And even still, Maryann does not like that one bit.